


Belief

by marscolony



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Light Praise Kink, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Blind Betrayal, Romance, light begging, romantic smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 03:19:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17357936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marscolony/pseuds/marscolony
Summary: Without the Brotherhood, Danse must reassess what exactly he believes in. Despite everything he's lost, Dollie gives him something to believe in.





	Belief

**Author's Note:**

> This short fic takes place much later on in my slow burn fic [Keep Close](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11654772/chapters/26221770), between my sole survivor Dollie and Danse.  
> I haven't shared any smut fic in ages, so, hope I'm not too rusty.

A year ago he never would have believed that the vault dweller that stumbled into the compound in Cambridge would become the cornerstone of his life. Everything he'd known and believed had been torn from his hands, but she had stayed at his side.

He had expected her to follow orders. He was the enemy. He would have knelt at her feet and allowed her to end his life, and he would have thanked her. But she had spared him, begged him to escape to safety, and then faced down the entirety of the Brotherhood for his sake.

He'd thought she would keep her distance after that. His "execution" had meant a promotion for her, and she still had a war to fight. But she'd come back to him, the way she always had, asking him for help and giving him purpose when he felt like he had nothing. He had never imagined just how she would get to him, how after countless days risking their lives side-by-side and watching things fall apart and being there to help the other stand again, he would need her in ways he had never needed anyone.

He felt closer to her than he'd ever felt to anyone. He'd told her things he'd rarely shared, about the past he thought had been his own, and about how it felt to have it taken away. He'd told her about the jealousy he felt sick with that she was able to keep fighting despite everything she'd faced, and that she'd had what he had never had: a family that cared about her.

She'd assured him tirelessly of his humanity, something he was still trying to keep a grasp on. It was growing easier each time he heard her say it, but each time she left the bunker he wanted more desperately for her to stay.

How pathetic and desperate it was for him to beg her to stay, and yet he'd found himself doing just that. And she'd obliged him, kissing him, allowing him to hold her in his arms, to undress her, to touch her, to make love to her.

He didn't deserve this. Didn't deserve her. No one did. She was too good for the hellish world she'd been stranded in. He didn't understand how she could let him do this to her, how he could be drawing the soft, needy moans from her lips.

The way he fit into her was so right, so mind-bendingly perfect. The feel of her skin hot against his own, so soft and delicate, was like nothing he'd experienced. The way she arched into him, her head falling back against the bed, her throat exposed for him to pepper with fumbling kisses, it was all so overpowering.

He couldn't believe the way she begged. Anything she wanted, everything he had to give, would be hers. The dig of her heels into the back of his thighs and a gasping plea had him pushing deeper, pushing harder, to accommodate her needs. Anything to keep her clinging to him with such fervent desperation.

He could feel her body tensing, feel himself tensing, feel the pressure building in his gut. He couldn't believe the sweet praises falling from her lips, tugging him onward, filling his head with an intoxicating haze he wanted nothing more than to succumb to.

He thanked any gods listening for the strings of _'so good'_ s' and ' _yes, yes, yes_ 's' that made her writhe against the mattress, that sent him needing her closer, needing to blur the lines that made them separate, needing to be melded into one being. One hand slipped across her back, pulling her chest to his, his other cupping the nape of her neck and pulling her upward to taste her lips, the sweetest taste the world had to offer.

She moaned into his mouth and he was so nearly done for, so close to breaking, as her arms closed around his neck, her long fingers pushing through his hair. How could she be so gentle, so tender even now? How could he ever be deserving of it?

The needy gasp of his name had him losing any control he had left, locking his arms tightly around her hips and pulling her onto his lap, keeping her still as he drove upward into her. Her breathing was fast, soft, choked gasps escaping her mouth with each thrust that shook her frame. Her forehead dropped against his and he caught her eyes, watching the ecstasy fill her face, feeling her tightening around him.

He had to stop, to pull away, started to push, and then her fingers were digging into his shoulders, her words frantic and breathy. " _No, no, stay- s-stay, please..."_

He could hardly breathe as she kissed him, wrapping himself around her, holding her down against him—too tight, too rough he feared. She cupped his face in her hands, digging her heels into his back to be nearer, to keep close, pressing feverish kisses to his face.

He broke and his mind was nothing but the feeling of her wrapped around him, the hot, burning rush of pressure, the tension crashing over him like a wave he was completely content to drown in. He was barely conscious of his body spasming, clenching and unclenching.

As the wave pushed away from him he could hear himself panting, could hear his heart pounding in his ears, could feel her shaking in his arms. His body felt heavy, his muscles beyond tired.

She dusted his face with tiny kisses and he tilted his head back so she could better reach him, her fingers pushing damp hair from his face. He stroked his thumb along her spine, watching her watching him, trying to understand the affection in her eyes.

How could she _love_ him? How could she give herself to him like this?

The corners of his eyes prickled and he was overwhelmed with a dark shame for allowing himself to do this to her, to defile her like this. He was a monster, completely unworthy. All of those years of practiced self control were completely lost on him now.

He was unaccustomed to the burn of tears on his cheeks.

She frowned, pushing his tears away with her lips, shushing him soothingly.

The tears came with dread, gut wrenching dread. He heard himself whisper urgently, embarrassingly unrestrained, his worst fears plain for her to hear.

_"Don't leave. Please, don't leave me."_

_"I'm not leaving."_ She murmured between kisses. _"Never."_

Loving her felt human. And if she could believe it, then so could he.


End file.
